


The Tree

by Raisin_brans



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Hashi turns into a tree, Mokuton, Naruto Founders Week 2019, nostalgic, passing references to other ninja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisin_brans/pseuds/Raisin_brans
Summary: It's been 50 years since the Mokuton caught up with him.





	The Tree

It hadn't rained in several weeks, unusual for this part of the country. The grass was just turning crisp with dehydration, and the earth compacted and cracked under itself. Still, the Oaktree stood. It had no need for frequent rain, it was stronger than that. Boughs unbroken and unbent by the decades.

Some in the village called this tree enchanted, said it was a seed of the original chakra tree. Everyone, civilian and shinobi alike could feel the aura falling like pollen from its surface. Its sap like honey in the late summer sun.

The tree did not mind the speculation. Words meant nothing on such ancient wood. Even other spirits wandering the woods showed due reverence to its otherworldly presence.

The tree’s most beloved visitors were the children. They came from far and wide, seeking shelter, shade, and solace under its forgiving branches. Little feet, some with shoes, some without, patterned as high up as they could climb. Their laughter like windchimes blessing the forest with their mirth.

Oh, but the tree heard their sorrow too. Young children running away from home, adolescents mourning the death of their idealism, and shinobi hiding from their deathly quiet homes. These the tree seemed to weep for. Its leaves quieting their chatter, making room for the wails of those who had seen too much.

In another life, the tree had been just like them. Overcome with the sorrows of the world, unable to take another step. Now it was immobile, but not unchanging. It had been almost 50 years since Hashirama had taken his last steps. Those steps had been slow, painful, and secret. No one would know how the God of Shinobi died. No one would see how he limped off into the woods, how when the stiffness of his legs became too great, he simply stood. And no one would hear the soft creaking as the bark encased his slumbering form.

It has been 50 years and the tree has seen many come and go. All are drawn to it, none know why. The seasons will march on, and the village will have its silent guardian, always.


End file.
